


Daemon

by YblackCat



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman and Robin (Comics), Robin: Son of Batman (Comics)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Demon possession, Non-Consensual Touching, Threats of Rape/Non-Con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2018-12-08 16:09:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11650083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YblackCat/pseuds/YblackCat
Summary: After being resurrected Damian is plagued by nightmares of Hell and the demons that tormented him. Seeing shadows and monsters where there is nothing to be found Damian and his family are shocked to discover that what they took for the boy's paranoid imaginings maybe a horrifying reality that have followed him into his world.ORDamian's being haunted/possessed by demons from Hell. Inspired by the recent exorcism movies my sister and I have been binge watching.





	1. Manifestation of the Daemon

**Author's Note:**

> The non-con elements were directly inspired by various scenes in movies with demon possessions, like what the victims dealt with before they start speaking in tongues and stuff. I'm not trying to harm anyone with my writing so please don't read if it will affect you negatively, but I ended up including it bcs the only reason I could think of why a demon would do it (like I don't think they would be motivated by sexual desire) would to make a victim feel even more helpless in such a difficult and unbelievable situation and therefore make it easier to posses them fully later(?) Idk i was watching a lot of movies remembered how DC made it canon that a 10-yr old boy went to hell and this is what I produced.
> 
> Sorry to anyone who's offended and I hope ya'll can enjoy.

 

* * *

 

dae·mon1

ˈdēmən/

_noun_

**1**. (in ancient Greek belief) a divinity or supernatural being of a nature between gods and humans. 

 **2.** archaic spelling of demon1.

 

* * *

 

Damian had come back from the dead, resurrected by the efforts of his family and was grateful for the chance to be with them again, to truly prove himself to be worthy of his father and of the title of Batman. Although, he never explicitly said any of this, Grayson seemed to know and had made a point to always mention how happy they all were that he was back, how proud they were of him now and how proud they were of him the night he had died. Despite all these assurances, Damian knew the truth, he had lied about not remembering the ‘afterlife’, claiming, like Todd, that it was simply a moment of black and then waking up alive again.

The harsh and horrifying truth was he remembered, he remembered the demons and the eternal damnation of hell and Damian knew what was destined for him once he died and he was terrified. The nightmares causing him to wake up screaming, fighting with his sheets and startling poor Titus and Alfred, the cat giving him a look that demonstrated his displeasure at being disturbed from his sleep by the ruckus. Damian settled himself back under the covers and once the animals had gotten comfortable he let himself close his eyes again, flashes of red, flames, and the sneering faces of the demons jeering as the chains dragged him further into the pit. Damian banished the thoughts,but found that of late it had been becoming increasingly difficult to distance himself from the memories and remain outwardly composed.

It started about a month after he had been resurrected. It seemed simple at first just nightmares and no other lasting affects. But the dreams eventually led to dark shapes hovering just in his peripherals, Damian would look sharply when he caught the hint of them but nothing would be there. This eventually developed into the feeling of being watched...always, constantly, leaving the poor boy uneasy and paranoid. These anxieties led to some rememberable mistakes when patrolling with his father and brothers, like the youngest bat throwing batarangs at shadows that his eyes had barely perceived only to see nothing there when he examined the area, at first his family had trusted his instincts. However, eventually it became evident that Robin was simply jumping and attacking shadows. And this all culminated to the incident, the night it wasn’t just a shadow he had reacted to and his beatarang had almost hit a man throwing out the garbage in some back alley. Batman, of course, benched him for a month and then indefinitely, until they were certain he could handle his vigilante responsibilities.

At first Damian had protested, there had been many vocal arguments and slammed doors, until he had to concede defeat when his father’s mind would not be changed and Grayson had come to his room and talked to him about how this was all for Damian’s benefit and was not a punishment. The concern and affection in his older brother’s eyes finally convinced Damian to just deal with the grounding and maybe attempt to sort through his problems so he could go back to working efficiently again.

....

When he woke again, Damian could tell it was morning by the way the sun’s rays illuminated the curtains. Attempting to get up Damian found he could not move, his limbs to heavy from a force being exerted on his entire body. Confused he looked down the length of his body, but there was noting visible restraining his limbs. Starting to feel a bit afraid he tried to lift his hand, kick out his foot, anything and found he could do nothing but thrash his head from side to side. Both the physical and mental efforts to even mover were exhausting and Damian didn’t know how long he played there, staring at the ceiling, sweat beading along his face as he tried to remain calm and just move his finger.

What felt like ages later Dick finally came to check on him, and Damian knew that it must have been later than 2 in the afternoon because the family usually took breakfast at around noon with, maybe, one of them straggling in after 1 if they had been patrolling the previous night.

Surprised to see him awake, Grayson clicked his tongue, “Little D, I would never expected you to be the one to be lazing around in bed. Come downstairs, Alfred has some food waiting for you.”

Damian could only turn to look at him with big, wide eyes. Dick finally seemed to take in the sweat he was covered in and his fearful gaze and knelt by his bed, pushing back his hair to feel Damian’s temperature, “Hey, little bird, are you not feeling alright? I’ll get Alfred come up and check on you.”

And before Damian could spread his brother was gone and he was left alone again, unable to move, and the feeling of oppressive eyes watching him grew steadily. When Grayson returned, it was not only with the butler in tow, but as well as his father, Todd, and Drake. At the sight of them he remembered that Dick had decided that the family had to spend more time together and as a result they were having a day to relax at the manor, Grayson and Todd arriving the previous night to take ‘advantage’ of all their 24 hours together.

The older man frowned at the sight of him, his father going to the other side of the bed to watch the butler’s examination.

“Now, Master Damian can you tell me what specifically ails you?” Alfred’s voice was gentle and kind as he laid the back of his hand against his overheating skin.

“I didn’t know the demon spawn could get sick.” Jason snickered from the door receiving a glare from both Bruce and Dick and an amused look from Tim that somehow still conveyed disapproval.

Damian found the energy to speak, ignoring his brother and looking into Alfred’s eyes, unable to hide his fear, “I-I can’t move...Th...They won’t let me...”

His words caused everyone to tense and Alfred’s hands dropped the thermometer he was holding in order to run his hands over his body, looking for injuries, injection marks, or any indication or foul play.

“Who, Damian?! What did they do!” His father’s voice was gruff but stern, an underlining danger to whatever was threatening his son and Damian could only find that marginally reassuring.

Damian huffed looking up, his breath’s coming faster, chest heaving, “They’re always watching...I told myself they weren’t real, that it was impossible,” He looked to his father tears in his eyes, “I was wrong father, so wrong, and they’re going to hurt me.”

Dick had moved to the foot of his bed and the more Damian spoke the more frantic he became, “You’re scaring me Dami, tell us who they are!”

“The demons! The demon’s have come!” Damian screamed almost hysterically and found he couldn’t breath, that the deep gulps of oxygen he was trying to inhale just weren’t working properly.

The silence and confusion that followed his statement was broken as Alfred tried to maneuver him into a sitting position. Only the old man frowned as he found the boy too heavy to lift, which was ridiculous because the boy was only a little over 3 feet and still a child with only lithe and slender muscles.

“I...I can’t seem to lift him up, Master Dick, if you would...?”

Grayson immediately moved but found that he couldn’t either, starting to swear he looked to Bruce who moved to help. When even their combined efforts couldn’t budge the boy Tim and Jason joined in. After a few frustrating minutes of no results they all stepped back, the rising worry clear in the lines between their eyes and pinched frowns.

Damian wanted to speak, tell them it was useless when he felt the presence that had been shadowing him ever since his resurrection suddenly become overwhelming and he gasped as his torso was yanked forward. His family jumped back at the sharp movement and Damian reached for Grayson desperate before he was thrown back against the bed. He could hear several curse words from an assortment of voices and Alfred’s soft exclamation as the sharp push and pull action was repeated again and gain.

Frightened Damain yelled, “Help me, Grayson! Father!”

But the motions only got increasingly violent, the bed was being shaken with how fast and hard his upper body was being thrown around. Damian could feel the muscles in his neck strain and was sure he had whip-flash from the way his head was snapping back and forwards.

It all stopped as suddenly as it started and Damian was left sitting up in his in bed, chest heaving and looking at his family with fearful green eyes and the moment he tried to get off the bed it bucked, throwing him back into the middle. Startled Damian let a small yelp and turned to the other side where his father stood but again the furniture had a mind of it’s own and literally opposed the action by lifting from that side now to force him back. Any attempts of his father or Grayson to approach the bed and grab him were met with increasing brutal shakes from the bed. And Damian was left on his knees in the middle of the bed, gripping the sheets in-order to not be thrown into the wall.

Damian looked up, his instincts alerting him to danger and was met with eyes, just eyes, too dark to even comprehend and found himself being thrown to bed and unable to move again, only this time it wasn’t because his limbs felt too heavy but was reminiscent of the feeling of being pinned down. Damian called out as his arms were yanked above his head and his thighs forced apart.

Too shocked to even scream he could only struggle, yanking his arms out of the invisible grip only to have them grabbed and forced back above his head and desperately clamping his thighs together only to have them hardly yanked apart.

Twisting Damian tried to call for help only to realize that his family was stuck about a meter from the bed, an invisible barrier keeping them back despite the fight they were putting up and the rather vicious snarls twisting their features. Damian was honestly surprised to see how ferocious Grayson and Drake looked, not usually associating the two with the word.

Though what happened next caused them all to freeze, Damian’s pyjama top was slowly being unbuttoned and he froze as he felt hot breath huff against his ear rustling his hair. Petrified he watched as his father’s and brother’s efforts doubled as he began to feel his pants being removed, his legs briefly being forced into the air before falling back to the bed and forced apart again. Left in only his underwear and open shirt Damian began to sob. The sound seemed to awaken something in his father who screamed in absolute rage and smashed his fists against the energy keeping him back.

And just as suddenly at the presence had appeared it was gone, his brothers who had been throwing themselves at the barrier, falling almost comically when it vanished. But, Damian couldn’t find it himself too laugh instead curling up and smashing his face into his pillow as his sobs shook his entire body. He felt his father’s familiar weight settle on the bed before he found himself being gently pulled into the strong embrace and familiar scent of his father, who breathed quiet assurances into his hair and soothingly rubbed his back. Damian could only clutch desperately at his father’s sweater, his tears and rough grip probably ruining the cashmere.

....

They left his room as soon as possible, his father carrying him on his hip down the hall and downstairs to the main parlour while Alfred fetched him a change of clothes. His brothers lingered anxiously at the side but wisely remained silent. When the butler reappeared Damian couldn’t stop crying and Bruce had to help him change into his clothes, pulling his sweater above his head and holding him steady as he stepped into his sweatpants. Once dressed Damian climbed back into his father’s lap, dozing as his sobs trailed into quiet hiccups and shuddering breathes. Alfred next to the pair and with a handkerchief began to clean Damian’s face, an action that would ordinarily receive vocal protests from the boy but now only garnered a weak nuzzle and sniffle from the exhausted ten year old.

“I lied,” Damian started voice still breathy from his tears, “I lied when I said I couldn’t remember anything when I died. I went to Hell for all the bad things I did.”

He took a deep shuddering breath, tears slipping from his eyes as he twisted in his father’s lap and looked up into his eyes, “Father, they won’t let me live in peace. They’ve had my soul and now they want it back.”

His Father’s arms tightened around him, forcing Damian to tuck his head back into his father’s chest, “They can’t have you, demons or angels or anything else will be taking you from this family again, son. I promise you that.”

Damian nodded but could only wonder how his father planned to fight this particular enemy. Since the supernatural was truly beyond his element.

“That’s right Little D’, we got friends who know about this sort of thing and it seems it’s time to call in some favours because all of hell could come for you Baby Bat but they aren’t getting past me.” Grayson’s eyes were cold steel and as he knelt by the couch to rub soothing circles on Damian’s back the boy honestly felt the sliver of hope that his father’s words had sparked begin to grow as he realized he wasn’t alone in this fight anymore.


	2. Oppression: Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't just leave the story, and I got a pretty positive response, so here we go!

 

* * *

 

op·pres·sion 

əˈpreSHən/ 

_noun_  

  1.  prolonged cruel or unjust treatment or control.

the state of being subject to unjust treatment or control

mental pressure or distress.

* * *




 

From the first morning when Damian was forced to realize that his nightmares had been given real life, the shadows and night had become his enemies. He would spend the mornings anxious and fearful, dreading the moment the sun would set because that’s when the true horrors would begin. Damian always felt the demon’s presence, constantly felt the eyes burning into the back of his head, the little hairs on the back of his head standing up as he shivered.

He constantly moved around the manor with a blanket over his shoulders with as many lights on as possible. Going to the Bat Cave was impossible for him now, seeming only to amplify the strength of the demon, allowing whispers to be growled against his ear.

Damian could feel his family looking at him varying degrees of pity and worry, Constantine and Zantana were unavailable, dealing with some magical mission and unreachable until it was completed. Their contacts with the two said it could take weeks to a month before they were back. The family was now on edge. Cain, Stephanie, and Barbara had been called the same morning, Batman needing Gotham to be patrolled but not willing to leave his son’s side for such extended period of times.

Barbara and Stephanie had been sceptical at first, Cain had arrived simply took one look at Damian and kneeled down and enveloped him in a tight hug. His throat had tightened and he had buried his head in her neck, her scent and quiet reassurance comforting.

Stephanie and Barbara didn’t need any more convincing when after dinner when the family had gone to one of the sitting rooms to watch a movie. Damian had been dozing, leaning into Dick’s shoulder, who he had been almost inseparable from since the incident, when the whispers had started. Quiet at first, he almost believed they were from the senseless film Todd had chosen, until they steadily got louder and louder and the words a painful screeching in his ear. Damian had put his hands over his ears, hunching over as it became agonizing, he was sure they were going to blow his eardrums and he could feel calloused hands softly urging him to look up.

Grayson’s worried blue eyes peered at him from and he was speaking, mouth moving but Damian couldn’t hear a single word. Reduced to reading his brother’s lips he figured the questions asking what was wrong were understandable even if he felt inexplicably bitter about it. They knew what was wrong and while how the demon decided to torment him differed, it was always the same. There was nothing they could do but ride it out. So, Damian simply let his brother wrap his arms around his shaking form and worked through the pain as the lights began flickering. He watched as items began being tossed around the room, Tim and Jason trying to desperately stop any of the precious vases from falling, jumping to snatch them from the air or diving to catch them.

Alfred would later remove all the priceless and breakable valuables from the manor until the matter was solved.

Barbara and Stephanie were reduced to dodging flying movies and books they kept on the shelves while his father sternly surveyed the room, jaw clenched, and expression stormy.

The voices had only gotten increasing louder and Damian pulled back his hands from his ears in shock when he felt a trickling sensation. Blood was smeared on his hands and he could feel it making a path on his jaw and down his neck. Dick looked distressed and was reaching for a napkin, when everything just stopped. The books and movies swirling around the room simply fell to the ground, Jason and Tim looked relieved that they no longer had to jump around the room for vases and figurines.

Damian’s eyes fluttered and he sagged with relief when jut as suddenly the screeching that had been assaulting his senses dimmed once again to faint whispers. Barbara and Stephanie did not have a hard time believing in the demon after that. Barbara didn’t want to wait for Constantine and Zantana, but Bruce said he only wanted the best and most experienced exorcists dealing with Damian’s problem. Which is what he called it, Damian’s problem, as if it was a simple worry or complication that could be solved, if with a little annoyance.

Stephanie volunteered to cover some of the areas they occasionally wouldn’t be able to patrol and after giving Damian a quick hug admitted she did’t do well with scary movies but she would try her best for him.

Everyone went to bed exhausted, Jason complaining about being bruised from saving all of Bruce’s stupidly priceless and extremely breakable decor, Drake was helping Alfred straighten the furniture, citing the clean up was for another time. Grayson bundled Damian in his arms while his father examined his ears, telling Cassandra to fetch the first aid kit. Once, it was determined that Damian’s ear drums and hearing were not damaged they all went to sleep.

….

After the living room commotion Damian found he could not sleep, even when making the effort. He had been avoiding it at first, the nightmares he constantly had making him feel anxious and exhausted when he woke up, but even he had to admit when he needed rest. However, whenever he would make a conscious effort to sleep, the bed would start rocking, or whispering voices would buzz in his ear, becoming the background noise of his existence.

Damian found that even when he was able to catch a few moment of rest that wasn’t tormented by vicious nightmares he would be merciless awakened by a sharp pain on his body. At first he had been confused by the sight of claw marks raked up his side, arms or leg, finding that the spacing made it impossible for it to have been his cat or dog. When Damian had found the first bite mark on his forearm, surrounded by black and blue bruises, tinged with a sickly yellow he had almost thrown up. Knowing that the monster could leave marks like this nearly threw him into a panic act and left him feeling violated.

He began hiding the marks not wanting anyone to know, for some reason more ashamed of them then anything else that had happened. Damian reasoned that since his family couldn’t do anything until help arrived, in the form of a magician and a cranky British smoker, there was no reason to worry them unnecessarily with the oddly possessive marks and the knowledge that the demon could end his life at any moment with a well placed bite or scratch. They were already strained dealing with Gotham’s crime understaffed.

With that in mind Damian had kept the new form of torment to himself, but if he could he would try to hide the flying objects and banging noises that now haunted the house.

After a week of tame and predictable haunting by the demon Damian sat in living room with Drake, Todd and Stephanie and knew that the calm would not last. It was his father’s turn to patrol, while Grayson and Cassandra acted as backup and without the family member he was closest to it was oddly worrying for the boy. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust his other two brothers and his silly sister, but on a regular day he more often then not bickered with them and felt oddly guilty that they were dragged into a situation to care for him when they often cited him as a pain in the ass to deal with or demon spawn. The nick name now leaving a sour taste in the family’s mouth, although Damian thought the irony of the situation was amusing…in a grim sort of way.

Tim had chosen the first season Star Trek for them to binge watch, and Jason was having a blast critiquing the cheesy affects and exaggerated acting, though they both claimed to dearly love the show. Damian couldn’t really focus on the plot and was simply happy to bask in the calm and almost happy atmosphere they had created. But, when he started falling asleep on the couch Damian knew it was time for bed, only hoping that this would be one of the rare nights he slept without much disruption. Picking up his blanket he wished them all good night and with Titus and Alfred-the-cat trailing after him. Damian popped his head into Alfred’s room to wish the older man goodnight observing how his grandfatherly figure was currently enjoying a book and hot chocolate by the fireplace in his room, before trotting off to his own room.

Bringing to mind a time when Damian had initially been reluctant to ever enter the room again. Jason had pulled him aside one afternoon and the younger boy could honestly say he never expected the way Todd had explained it to him.

….

“Honestly kid, I understand why you’d never want step inside the room where this shit storm of a bad situation started.”

Jason had crunched down so the were eye level with each other and Damian could see in his eyes that he was trying his best to pick the right words. His little nervous tick, running his had through his already ruffled hair, making an appearance every other word.

“But, that’s your place you know? Like, when you need to escape from anything, Bruce being a stubborn ass or golden boy smothering you, that was where you went and where you were most comfortable. You would spend hours a day with your pets, reading, drawing, and whatever else you fucking do for fun and this-this thing is trying to take that from you. It wants you to feel unsafe and alone and afraid…”

Here Jason paused reaching out to lay a hand on the back of Damian’s neck to draw him closer until their foreheads touched in a gentle gesture of comfort, which the younger boy allowed without his usually complaints or sneer. Instead Damian leaned in, enjoying the warmth freely offered from such an unexpected source.

“But, you’re not alone….damnit. It’s okay to be scared, baby bat, but we’re all gonna be here for you every step of the way and the little shit I know would never let himself be driven from his space, his sanctuary. You gotta reclaim what’s yours. I’ll stay with you….I’ll help you. Whatever you need.”

Jason said this with all the sincerity and seriousness that Damian was rarely afforded the opportunity to see and his words struck a cord in the younger boy. He found himself agreeing with his older brother and tentatively he suggested that maybe they all sleep in his room tonight….just for the first night.

Jason had smiled, a real smile, not a smirk, sneer or sardonic grin, and Damian truly saw for the first time the boy he must have been before the all the trauma he had experienced during his death and subsequent unhappy resurrection.

“That’s no problem at all, baby bat. Lets go grab the replacement and golden boy.”

Grayson of course was pleased and proceeds to grab at least 15 pillows and 4 blankets to drag to Damian’s room. Drake had shrugged but, grabbed his sleeping bag without much fuss and settled in rather quickly next to Damian’s easel.

That night Damian had no nightmares, nothing flew about the room, and woke up content and happy, despite everything.

He wasn’t afraid to go in his room anymore and promised to one day repay Todd. And if anyone found the two of them acting closer then usual, well they were brothers and they were bound to warm up to each other eventually.

….

But all good things come to an end.

Damian had woken up briefly when his father and Grayson returned, he knew Cain had to leave for Hong Kong in order to settle the situation for a more long term absence before she returned and before they had left for patrol they had their heartfelt goodbyes, he could still recall the faint scent of lilies that she always seemed to trail around and how warm and gentle her arms were around him.

The two had come to check on him, his father at the door, while Grayson sat on the edge of the bed, gently shushing Damian when the boy mumbled, waking up and becoming more alert. Damian allowed his brother to brush his hair back and settled comfortably back on his pillows and closed his eyes . He fell asleep again with his father’s protective presence and the comfort of familiar calloused fingers stroking his head.  
  
….

Later, in the dew of the early morning Damian awoke abruptly, his clothes were soaked with sweat and his heart beat was pounding rapidly in his ears while his breath came out in gulping breaths. Grimacing at his damp bed sheets Damian shooed his pets off the bed and stripped the covers off, discarding them in a corner. Taking off his pyjamas and adding them to the pile he went to the bathroom attached to his room, shooing away Titus’ curious snuffling.

Turning the shower tap until it was the appropriate temperature, not too hot but perfectly warm, Damian stepped under the spray. The water trailed relaxing rivets along the tense muscles along his back and Damian brushed the hair that flattened against his head and in his eyes when he felt a gust of breath against the back of his neck.

He froze like a startled animal and before Damian could move he felt a tearing sensation across his back. Twisting he slipped and stumbled back, hitting the shower wall raising his arms in a defensive stance by instinct and hissed when he felt the skin split, the gush of blood spraying the wall. A quick glance at his arm Damian revealed wounds that looked like it came from claws. The invisible attacker swiped at his side, and Damian was forced to refocus on defence, raising his arms to protect his face. Damian had been taught how to fight blind and could deal with enemies he couldn’t see, but he couldn’t hear his enemy, there was no solid mass when he desperately struck out. He was left with little else to do but try to protect himself.

He slipping down until he hit the bottom of the tub he ducked his head in his knees to make himself as small as possible. Damian breathed, hissing through each new laceration, this he could deal with, pain was easy, he’d been trained to deal with all kinds of torture and this was the simplest form… the one that he would just have to wait out.

Damian gasped as the water turned burning hot, scalding his torn skin and he rush to turn off the water, with his back exposed he felt a clawed hand grab the back of his head and smash his face into the tile which cracked at the impact. He blinked dizzy for a moment, feeling blood drip from his brow where the skin had split. The next push sent him sprawling and the vicious attack continued relentlessly and Damian hissed and gasped and tried to swallow his screams. Only when Damian lay gasping on the porcelain surface, blood covering everything in a macabre display of wobbly arcs, did the assault began to ease in its ferocity until he felt a a sharp almost blinding pain at the base of his neck.

A soft growl filled the eerily silent space and when Damian found the strength to lift his head it was with a chocked sob, the eyes, the eyes were back and in them he saw all his sins, all the lives he had taken and the suffering he had experienced in the underworld. In them he relived his death, the cold and hot feel of the blade, begging his mother for mercy and hoping with all his might the Grayson and his father were alright.

Damian heard the screams but it wasn’t until Grayson was bursting into the bathroom, expression frantic and then horrified by the sight that greeted him that he realized they were coming from him. Dick’s hands were gentle and he was screaming for Alfred before turning back to his younger brother, gently shushing Damian’s screams and grabbing a plush towel to wrap him in. Damian stared into his clear blue eyes and his sobs became gentle sniffles as he let Grayson pull him close.

“Oh god, oh god…there’s so much blood, Dami!” Dick said, alarm evident in his tone, “But, you’re going to be okay. I’ll make sure of it…I will.”

“I know you will, Richard” Damian whispered with all the trust and love he truly felt for his brother and he could feel that Grayson understood by the gentle kiss he placed on the boy’s forehead while he rocked gently him in his arms.

 


	3. Oppression: Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Family has a relaxing morning after a challenging night. Plans are made.
> 
> A transitioning chapter before things get scarier, gotta give my baby a break ; )

* * *

 

Oppression: 

Part Two

 

* * *

 

They sat there for Damian didn’t know how long, though it couldn’t have been very much. The younger boy couldn’t imagine that the racket Grayson had been making when he first arrived could have gone unnoticed for very long, at least not amongst members of his family. He flinched at the sound of harsh footsteps accompanied by the sound of Steph’s horrified gasp. Damian focused enough to take in what his family must be seeing. The curtains of his shower were shredded, soaked in blood, revealing the bloody scene in his shower complete with broken tiles and Damian shivering in a towel.

Grayson picked Damian up as he stood, slipping past the startled blonde and calling for Alfred again. He brushed past his shocked brothers who stood near the bed, Tim examining the discarded sheets while Jason held Titus’ collar, to keep the loyal hound from bounding to the injured boy with a single minded determination that was betrayed only by the shaking in his hands. Damian spotted his father with Alfred beside his bed, the emergency med-kit at the ready with experienced hands already pulling out supplies.

Damian was laid gently on the mattress, Grayson gently shushing him as he seated himself with the younger boy, not willing to part and Damian reciprocated the sentiment, selfishly clinging to his eldest brother. He allowed Dick to gently peel away the towel, already soaked with blood, irritating the torn  
edges of his skin. Damian made a small sound which was smothered in gentle kisses and sweet murmurs.

Alfred’s small sound of distress gave Damian pause and he could hear his father tell Drake to fetch a rag and water. His stomach sank and he knew he could not hide the already healing bruises and bite marks and he desperately hoped his new injuries could at least conceal them

Dry fingers softly ghosted across the sore skin of his neck.

“Good Lord…This looks like a bite mark.” The butler said astonished and Damian could detect hints of dread in the usually mild-mannered and sarcastic tone.

As Damian’s raw and stinging back was revealed, he could hear Stephanie’s quiet sobs, and he simply sighed, laying his head on Grayson’s shoulder, content in his family’s care and temporary peace.

Alfred dabbed lightly at the wounds on his back, the hydrogen peroxide an irritation that Damian ignored in favour of watching his father aid the butler with his care, passing supplies and getting the bandages and salve ready.

It was a slow process, after his back was tended to Grayson shifted him until Damian faced Alfred, giving the older man access to his arms and stomach. Damian leaned back, now sleepy and with his lids dropping dozed lightly and was only able to pay attention to half of what was occurring around him.

“Sir, this can not go on for much longer,” Alfred said briskly, wrapping the bandages around Damian’s arm, “We are lucky that most of these wounds are superficial, not deep enough to require stitches or scar but the sheer quantity alone… the boy has lost too much blood.”

“What can we do, Alfred? “ His Father asked, teeth clenched as he passed the medical scissors to snip the wrapping, “Without Constantine and Zantana we don’t have many options, at least no one we can trust to actually succeed and with our identities…we don’t know what Damian could say under such circumstances like an exorcism.”

“Okay…that’s all well and good B, but Boy Wonder just pulled your son out of the shower covered in blood and more holes and tears then a fucking pin cushion,” Jason sounded both exasperated and angry as he attempted to push the great dane out of the room, Titus proving to be more stubborn then expected in both being deterred from his master and moving from the spot by the foot of the bed that he had plopped his bottom on.

“Yeah, I got to agree with Red here,” Stephanie had grabbed the torn and stained shower curtain and was stuffing it in a garbage bag, tears drying on her cheeks, but eyes steely with some new found purpose, “It’s so vicious now…what it does to him, it’s only escalated.”

Tears shone again in her dark blue eyes although they did not fall, “Wh-what if this thing kills him…”

“That won’t happen,” Grayson growled and Damian could feel the dark rumble of the words through his chest.

“We need to get off the defensive and take a more active position in how to deal with this enemy,” Tim stood to the side watching everything with a complicated expression, he had flinched at the sight of the bloodied clothe Stephanie had and with every wound revealed cleaned and smothered in ointment before being bandaged, “We can’t just weather the storm…I mean look at him.”

Now he was angry, fists clenched before he crossed his arms, the former Robin began to pace, “There are exorcists that have a history of success who are in contact with Constantine and Zantana. We simply need an idea of how to help, even if we can’t permanently exorcise th-the demon, any clue of how to keep it at bay and maybe diminish its affect on Damian.”

“That’s as good an idea as any.” Jason said, he had given up trying with the dog who had hopped on the bed and was sniffing Damian’s feet with a sympathetic whimper.

He wiggled his toes and Titus snuffled before sneezing. Damian huffed a laugh, “Silly dog.”

Richard’s arms tightened around him and Damian could feel him burying his nose in his hair. He leaned back into the soft touch. He let Alfred finish with his treatment and only made a soft noise in protest when his father took him gently from Grayson’s arms, efficiently dressing him in pyjamas Jason passed him. Damian sighed into his father’s neck and allowed himself to be carried into his father’s room. As he was tucked in under the thick blanket he could see the furrow of worry between his father’s eyes. Damian fell asleep to the comforting presence of large hands smoothing back his still damp hair.

…

The next morning Damian didn’t protest when Alfred came to redo his bandages only sighing, “Pennyworth that’s quite enough!”, at the older man’s persistent double, triple, and quadruple checking. He did have to draw the line at Grayson’s excessive coddling at breakfast pushing away his suffocating arms and complaining loudly that he couldn’t possibly eat properly on his brother’s lap with his stupidly large hands and facd getting in the way.

Richard acted hurt while Jason, Tim, and Steph looked on with amusement. His father had been on the phone all morning and finally sat down, hanging up his phone and putting it to the side as he pulled a plate towards himself.

“I found someone. Chas Kramer, a former apprentice to Constantine. He’s in Los Angeles at the moment and will be taking the earliest flight available after his business is done.”

He sounded exhausted and Damian felt the complaints he had for Grayson die on his lips and found himself shrinking into himself as he watched his father eat slowly. A part of Damian wanted to apologize for all the trouble he was causing and another was so grateful that he didn’t have to face it alone.

Grayson bounced his knees, jarring Damian, who shot his brother an annoyed look over his shoulder before returning to his breakfast, nibbling on his toast.

The rest of the morning was spent in relative comfort lazing in the yard, Titus bounding after each ball thrown, cookies and small sandwiches provided by Alfred, the plates arranged neatly on the grass. Stephanie and Jason teased Tim, throwing torn of pieces of bread at him and laughing at his deadpan expression.  Though his eyes swore vengeance as he sipped his coffee and nibbled on a cookie.

Richard stayed close to Damian, conscious of his wounds but with enough foresight to not let it show and played with Titus with an exuberant energy that belied his sleepless night. Bruce sat watching from a bench, Alfred by his side speaking in low tones with a certain satisfaction watching all of the children at ease, though worry still crinkled their brows.

Damian, tired from the exercise, sat down, letting Grayson throw the ball and watching Titus catch it before lolling at his feet, heavy head on his knees. He watched with amusement as his older brother sprawled next to him, smile bright, eyes crinkling and giving the great dane a belly rub.

They lay there watching the swans in the pond in comfortable silence, the only interruptions when Grayson asked if Damian was hungry and when Titus would whine if they weren’t giving him enough attention. Damian turned as his father’s shrill ring tone rang through the air, cutting the all present conversations short, watching as Batman stood from the bench, phone already to his ear and talking, expression focused. The tranquility of the morning interrupted they began packing up the food and blankets and head back to the manor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long...work was busy bcs we were short staffed and then school started tbh i'm hella exhausted...hope you all aren't too disappointed with this.


	4. Infestation

* * *

In-fes-ta-tion

/ˌinfəˈstāSHən/

noun

1\. to spread or swarm in or over in a troublesome manner

2\. to live in or on as a parasite

3\. Archaic. to harass

______________________________________________________

 

Damian slept fitfully that night, Grayson had insisted they sleep in his room, claiming he needed his younger brother to help him get through his nightmares. Damian had consented, with only after a minimum amount of grumbling, too embarrassed to show how grateful he was. The afternoon had been relatively quiet after his father received the call in the yard, he had changed and left the manor with a swift goodbye and stern instructions for everyone to take care of Damian.

The younger boy had frowned, displeased at the treatment, Stephanie was quick to reassure him that they knew he was quite capable of taking care of himself, but adults had tendency to worry. All of them ignored the glaring fact that what was happening to him was beyond any of their control and any attempt to help Damian wouldn’t be very fruitful. The result was a chorus of yeses that followed the instruction that were half-hearted, at best, the bleak truth affecting their mood.

The only positive outcome of the situation being that the usually empty manor was filled with his usually absent siblings and although Damian would have complained in other instances. His gratitude for the assurance of their mere presence led to an easy acceptance of the babying and constant supervision.

Though Damian had to admit to himself, while huddled under Richard’s thick duvet, the older man snoring quietly beside him while Titus and Alfred found spots for themselves on the bed, that his father’s brusque exit and silence in the morning before his departure…still having not returned well into the night, left Damian wondering what was important enough to draw his father away so suddenly. While his father would never be the cuddling type, with the easy sweet words and reassurance that Grayson had in abundance, his presence had been reassuring to Damian, the foundation of the family...the man with the plan. His absence was achingly obvious.

Damian wasn’t foolish, he understand that the criminals wouldn’t have magically stopped when this all started and there would always be some rogue with a scheme that demanded Batman’s attention. And in the end his father would always be Batman before Bruce Wayne...it still hurt, no matter how much he wished it didn’t. It felt silly and childish and Damian was biting back sobs shamefully, aware that it was a disgrace to both his bloodlines.

Slipping from out under the covers Damian padded out of the room, waving off Alfred’s and Titus’ interest and waited till they settled back down before leaving the room. Pulling on Richards fluffy robe, ignoring how it dragged on the floor, Damian eased down the stairs, the boy already knew where to step to avoid all the creaky floorboards in the ancient manor. Damian creeped into the kitchen, pulling out a glass and pouring himself some water. Sipping slowly he glanced over his shoulder, it was the faint sound…. a faint wail…like a small animal.

Damian put the glass on the counter, wary of investigating until another faint cry reached his ears. Angry at himself for the doubt and the hesitation he never would have displayed before his death. Determined now Damian followed the sound to the sitting room, listening closely he moved through the room and was left standing in front of the grand fireplace, big enough for him to walk straight in without ducking and 3 meters wide.

The wailing had stopped but now a scratching sound could be heard and Damian swallowed hard, feeing it get stuck in his throat. Taking a deep breath he stepped forward, moving the grate aside to look up the chimney, freezing at the empty blackness. He told himself his eyes were playing tricks on him, nothing was moving. Damian took measured steps back as a scattering of rubble fell, the dust settling on his face. His breaths came in sharp pants as he watched more debris settle in the grate and feet dangle from the edge, followed by legs and a torso.

Damian froze startled by the image in front, it was a man, dusky skin like his and deep black eyes, covered in soot and holding a small bear. He wore the clothes familiar to Damian, from his childhood, the casual combination of loose linen pants and a shirt with embroidered edges, hair curling charmingly around his face.

The man tilted his head crouched in an uncomfortable position, watching Damian with a curious tilt of his head and rather malicious smirk. His limbs seemed…wrong…long and thin and bent in ways that made Damian ache. The smile stretched and his arm stretched holding the stuffed animal…almost an offering to Damian.

He hesitated, his instincts telling him either to fight or flee but finding his limbs uncooperative in either regard, Damian lifted his hand, fingers trembling, and gasped when his fingers met fabric, a part of him still not believing that any of it was physically real. The patchy fur, too worn to be considered soft, left his fingers black and he pulled it close to himself shaking and nauseous as the man’s smile widened even further and he could swear that all his teeth were visible.

“Do you like your gift, sweet prince?” The man’s voice was raspy, it simultaneously soothed and grated, drawing Damian in and repelling him. The man…who Damian knew was simply taking the form of one made a noise, a prompt for an answer.

Startled, he stumbled over his words, “Ye-yes…It’s quite nice…a bit dirty.”

Damian bit his lip, hating whatever made him answer and whatever made him decide to comment on the state of this ‘gift’.

The creature giggled, “Why yes! The trip put the poor thing through the ringer! I dare say, he’ll still be a very good friend.”

“I don’t need any friends.” He responded automatically, despite his growing affection with his expanding family Damian was still sure he didn’t need anything beyond his pets and Grayson when in a real need for affection and companionship.

“Oh sweet prince, that is true…never needing anything or anyone…just like they don’t need you.” The creature crawled forward and Damian opened his mouth to respond, an instant denial on the tip of his tongue.

“Do you think they intended to resurrect you? They meant to leave you to burn…It was an afterthought, a coincidence…they had long given up on you…” The creature’s voice was syrup, sickly sweet and venomous, he was so close now Damian could feel its breath on his cheek.

“That’s not true…” It was weak and doubtful, easily spotted and the creature snickered with its advantage.

“But…I care about you…I’ve missed you so very much…”

Here Damian reeled back only for its dirty hand gripping the back of his neck to halt his retreat.

“No, no, sweet prince! You must listen,” The creature’s grip tightened and Damian winced as he felt skin break and little rivets of blood run down the back of his neck, “I’m telling you just how much I missed you and you would turn away?”

He squirmed, a small whimper squeaking past his lips and the creature leaned forward his dry lips ghosting across Damian’s cheeks and forehead in mock kisses, “Shh, shh, little one…I came for you, out of love…I only want the best for you…I’ll make sure you see…I really will.”

“Now sleep.”

….

Damian woke not in the sitting room but somewhere too dark to see. It was dusty and he still had the ratty bear in his hands. Revolted he was tempted to dash it to the ground but felt uneasy leaving it out of his sight. He paused, first he would have to figure out where he was and how to get out, then he could deal with the disgusting gift. Shifting about the pockets of Grayson’s robe he smirked at the lighter he found, grinning he flicked it open and the small flame produced enough illumination for Damian to get his bearings.

The wood slates surrounding him were very old and covered in so much dust that Damian felt his nose itch, not typical of Pennyworth, so a part of the manor that was either unused or inaccessible. The narrow space afforded to him led Damian to believe it was the latter, moving forward he realized that the space between the boards afford him no clue, too dark to offer any clarity on his position, but he could could hear footsteps. Curious, he laid his ear against the wall and the faint sound of feet and voices could be heard.

Certain now that he had somehow been put in the very walls of the manor the only thing Damian had to do now was find his way out. Inching along he felt on the boards, slipping his fingers into cracks and pulling only to find they would’t budge. Huffing he had to slowly make his way, feeling all the surfaces around him with no luck.

Damian knew time was passing, his internal clock rather accurate after his training in the League, and knew he had spent around an hour conscious but had no clue how long he head been unconscious and if anyone would be looking for him yet. Grayson might not immediately be concerned if he didn’t see Damian after waking up, the younger brother a notorious early riser and the elder known for sleeping in. Damian bit his lip, eyes stinging, against he rising irrational fear that he would be stuck in the walls forever, never found, and only with the terrible demon possessing him for company. He pulled Grayson’s robe closer around him, thankful that he still had it, his body ached still not fully recovered from his ordeal and his bandages would need to be changed.

Irritated Damian kicked the boards, a sudden wave of determination overcoming him, he wasn’t gong to die here, he was better then this, raised to be better then this. He wound’t just sit around moping and feeling sorry for himself.

In his frustration he yelled, banging on the boards, fists clenched and sniffing. When he finally calmed down Damian put his head on his knees, focused on evening out his breathing. Perhaps it was the difficult night or the stress of waking up to find himself trapped, whichever it was, Damian found himself dozing off until he fell into a fitful sleep.

…….

Damian woke with a start, the dim light that filtered into the small space had faded into nothing and for a moment he couldn’t breath because at his feat was a man, features undistinguishable in the dark, but figure clearly outline in the way that it seemed to draw in the few rays of existing light and extinguish them. It was terrible and frightening with it’s long limbs crawling over him, head hanging low and bobbing like a searching animal. Damian shuffled backward but it only followed with a low grumbling sound that made him catch his breath.

Once it was directly over him, rancid breath puffing on his face, making Damian gag and turn away did he hear its voice. Not spoken and heard aloud but rather whispered in his mind, as if it were his own voice.

“Sweet prince, do you like my little game?…No?…I can let you out…you only need to say yes to me…a sweet little yes…let me in…”

It was seduction, promise, an easy way out and a chance to end his suffering…on the surface. Damian knew better, didn’t need to be an expert on demons and possession to know that it was a trick, that allowing a demon further access to his body, to his soul, would not be beneficial.

“No…” He whispered, closing his eyes not willing to face it any longer, “Never.”

It laughed, and that caused shivers to run down Damian’s spine and he flinched as it spoke again.

“Never is an awfully long time, darling…I’m sure I can change your mind.”

He could feel it inching closer and closer until dry cracked lips grazed his skin again. When it moved away Damian laid there for ten minutes, eyes closed, and nauseous. By the time he opened his eyes again it was gone, although the sooty stuffed animal was resting on his chest, Damian had lost track of it during his search and he picked the bear up gingerly and looked around.

Without much success on his own he had to resort to drawing attention to himself. Leaning back on one wall and letting his feet face the direction he had heard voices sound from Damian began kicking with all the force he could muster. Eventually one board cracked and he leaned forward to pull away the debris. Gingerly he touched the exposed material. Drywall…amongst other materials used to build walls.

He rapped his knuckles against it, pleased with the knocking sound that the action caused. Damian started pounding his fists against it, the thumps loud and resounding.

….

Dick was scared. He had woken up and Damian wasn’t beside him and he had to bury the shot of anxiety that had him shooting straight up and throwing aside the blankets. He knew the younger boy didn’t like to feel smothered and the fact that he had been so attached to them all without complaint demonstrated how much the situation was getting to him, which broke Dick’s heart.

Deciding to give Damian the space he probably needed he went to the bathroom and completed his usual morning rituals once he finished he opened the door, letting Titus and Alfred out, both animals had been waiting beside the door quietly, a testament to how well trained they were thanks to Damian’s magic with animals.

Knocking on Jason’s door he peeked into see the younger man sprawled on the bed, book hanging from his slack grasp and blankets tangled around his legs.

“Hey, Jaybird. Time to get up!”

He laughed when all he received in response was a grunt but shut the door and walked down the hall to Tim’s room. The teen was already up, on his computer and an open energy drink in his hands.

“Alright it’s time to go and get some real food. Finish up what your doing and be down in ten.”

Tim nodded absently, fingers dancing furiously across the keyboard.

Going downstair Dick checked his phone, no updates from Bruce, Steph letting him know she had left early since she had classes, and Babs giving him an update on his open cases that she had taken over.

Whistling Dick inclined his head towards Alfred after entering the kitchen and eyeing the food already laid out on the island. He pulled out a stool already loading up his plate.

“Did Damian already eat, Alfred? I thought I’d find him here.”

The old man paused, turning to give Dick a serious look, “I have not seen him as of yet, Master Dick. Did you send him ahead of yourself?”

Dick stopped, setting down his plate feeling sick, “Dami wasn’t with me when I woke I figured he just went down to eat already.’

“Well is Titus around? Perhaps Master Damian took him out for his morning walk?” Alfred said, voice soothing, meant to measure against the ring panic he could see in the younger man’s face.

Now he stood up, causing the stool to fall, full on panicking, “No…No…Both Titus and the cat were in my room, waiting to be let out…”

The butler set down the spatula he was using for the eggs, moving the pan of the burner, “I believe we should elicit your brothers for some help in finding the young master.”

Dick nodded rushing through the hall and up the stairs. Barging into Tim’s room he quickly yelled, “Damian’s missing, we need to find him!”

The teen gaped at him but was bolting up from his chair, grabbing a sweater and following the older man out of his room. Dick opened Jason’s door, who made an angry noise as he was in the process of pulling up his pants, which Dick ignored and reached forward to pull him towards the door, disregarding how Jason stumbled.

“I woke up and Dami was gone, Alfred hasn’t seen him and Titus was stuck in my room ’till I let him out!” Dick said frantically turning to look at the younger two. “Tim I want you to check the thrid floor, Jason you check the East Wing, I’ll check the West….We’ll meet after to check the Bat Cave.”

Pausing he walked to the railing and yelled down, “Hey, Alfie! We’re going to check upstairs, can you check the first floor!”

The butler walked to the end of the staircase and more sedately answered, “I shall.”

Dick nodded to himself, “Okay…Okay…guys be quick and careful…We don’t know what this thing could have done to him.”

Tim looked anxious and was already heading up the stairs. Jason was swearing to himself , but making his way to his assigned wing. Dick spun on his heel and started his own search.

After half an hour he was anxious, after an hour he was worried, and two hours passed and they were all sitting in the kitchen despondently, Alfred’s food cold but they still ate it. It tasted like nothing in Dick’s mouth, he was too agitated and terrified, thinking of what could have happened to his little brother. Pushing his plate away he put his head in his hands, biting back sobs as images of Damian’s broken and bleeding body entered his mind. His little brother, tiny with a permanent scowl, softened by his gentleness, loyalty, and honesty. might be dead or injured because of him…again.

“Now, now, Master Dick. There’s no need to lose hope. Bruce was prone to disappearances as a child when stressed, I imagine young Damian may be similar in the regard.”

He shook his head, not looking up, “This is different, it’s not just stress, something evil is after him and I…and I couldn’t even keep a proper eye on him!…It’s gonna be my fault..if he di-dies again…”

Dick sniffled rubbing his eyes, “I’ll call Bruce, let him know what’s going on.”

The butler only had sympathy in his eyes, laying a gentle had on his shoulder, “I shall inform Master Bruce of the situation. You all need to rest, maybe take the dog out for a walk, hmm?”

Dick looked up, “Has anyone seen the dog? Or even the cat?”

Tim and Jason looked at each other, back to him and then they were all bolting up from their seats and calling for the great dane. The thought of not only losing Damian but as well as his pets, which he cared most about, sent him and he figured the others, into a complete panic. The younger boy showed the greatest love and tenderness with his pets, though they were more like his closest companions and it soothed him to know that when he was in Blüdhaven Damian had these two for company and comfort, which was hard sometimes for Bruce to provide.

Dick raced down the hall outside the kitchen, passed one of the unused sitting rooms and found Titus pacing in front of a section of the wall, whining, while Damian’s cat was propped up on his hind legs and dragging his claws against it.

He reached for the dog’s collar, attempting to pull him away, shooing the cat from ruining anymore of the wallpaper. All Dick received for his trouble was a frightening hiss and swat from Alfred, before the cat returned to his prior occupation, and the big dog refusing to budge, throwing his entire weight in the opposite direction of Dick’s urging.

Sighing he stepped back, hands on his hips, and growling at the two pets, “I don’t have time for you two right now! Let me take care of you so Dami doesn’t flip when we find him.”

Both stubbornly ignored him, which was odd, Damian had trained them well and they were both usually very agreeable and quick to follow orders. After a few more minutes of useless struggling he sat down and took his phone out and wasn’t too proud to call for backup. Alfred and the others were quick too show up, the butler still on the phone and Dick winced when he realized he was talking to Bruce and telling how badly he fucked up.

Nodding to his brothers he tipped his heads towards the two animals,“They refuse to move and Titus is a pretty big dog, sooo I was thinking me and Jaybird handle the silly beast and Timmy feeds lil’Alfie?”

Jason scoffed, murmuring to himself, “…can’t even handle a dog…” Reaching for the collar, which Dick watched in amusement when he faced the same problem.

Tim had eyed the cat wearily but committed to his job he reached for Alfred, yelping when the feline became of squirming ball of hissing and sharp claws that he was forced to keep an arms length away, although his face had already suffered a few scratches.

“I always have to handle the dangerous ones…” The teen grumbled.

Jason had admitted defeat and turned to Dick expectantly. It took the both of them, with much sweet talking and encouragement, before they had a despondent Titus on a leash and outside.

“Hey, buddy! It’s gonna be okay, you and Dami are gonna be reunited soon enough!” Dick tried his best to remain upbeat, but the mood was definitely bad with Jason and Tim stewing in the background.

Titus only let a small ‘whoof’ in response and then refused to move any further. They were forced to simply bring him in and the moment he was off the leash Titus was dashing down the hall to where Dick found him.

He frowned, “You know they’re acting really weird…like…Alfred has never scratched up any the furniture before and Titus always happy to go outside.”

“These are extraordinary circumstances, Master Dick.” The butler replied solemnly, “Master Bruce should be back shortly.”

“Uggghhh…” Dick flopped unto the sofa in the sitting room, ignoring his brothers and the mindless show they put on.

But the thought remained with him, why would they be so obsessed with that part of the manor when they’ve displayed such behaviour before. Dick jolted from his seat and ran to one of the weapons displays that decorated the halls, picking up a 14th century axe, before rushing to the hall way. His heart leapt to his throat when he reached the hall way, Titus and Alfred still keeping vigil, and he could hear it…faint screams and thuds coming from the wall.

“Don’t worry, Damian! I’m here! I’m HERE!”

Dick could here his brothers shouting but he had already raised the axe above his and brought it down against the plaster. Jason was grabbing his shoulder but he just shrugged the younger man off.

“Don’t you hear him? Don’t you hear Damian in the walls?!” He sounded crazed, screaming at them and holding the axe, the rubble from the plaster at his feet.

“No we can’t! You need to put that down!” Jason sreamed back.

Alfred was covering his mouth with a hand, dismay written across his features, “Good Lord…”

“What is going on here?!”

This voice was familiar and the tone even more so. They brought to mind incidents of scolding and of patrols gone wrong.

Bruce stood at the end of the hallway, accompanied by a priest who appeared extremely nervous while the patriarchy of the family looked extremely furious.

Dick faltered for a moment before saying in a weak voice, “He’s in the walls…I heard him in the walls…”

“I believe it’s the stress Master Bruce…We still need to locate Damian but I will help Master Dick to his room in order for him to get some rest.” Alfred cut in quickly.

He was uncertain for a moment, under the strict gaze of Bruce and the grandfatherly butler reaching for him, then he heard the faint cries…the gasping sobs that bit off suddenly in attempts to quell the sound and it was so uniquely Damian that Dick could not ignore it.

He took the axe to the wall over and over again. Jason was herding Alfred and Tim back in an effort to keep the debris from hitting them.

“I hear him… he’s here…” Dick muttered, certain, even as his arms began to ache…god these old manors had thick walls.

He couldn’t fathom how long it took but he reached the inner section, past the lining and insolation, and was faced with wooden boards. Dick dropped to his knees finding a few already broken and before he could reach forward a small familiar hand peaked through, tiny and smudged in dust and he cried out in joy, already reaching for what remained and tearing it off.

Damian tumbled out, covered in soot and wearing pyjamas and Dick’s robe, the older man didn’t hesitate to draw the younger boy into his arms with a sob of relief.

He could hear Titus going wild behind him, barking and jumping forward to sniff along the back of the boy’s head.

“Holy shit…the kid was in the damn walls.” That was Jason and Dick couldn’t muster up the energy to care at how flabbergasted the other man sounded.

Dick leaned back, loosing the hold he had on Damian so he could see the boy’s face, so tiny it fit in both his hands and the soot had tracks from tears that he had smudged and Dick was filled with so much affection at the tired green eyes that looked up at him.

“You found me.” Damian’s voice was tiny, hoarse, and sounded so sweet to him in that moment he couldn’t resist the urge to clutch him closely again to his chest.

“Dear boy, what happened?” Alfred had come to kneel beside them and as he asked the question he pulled out a handkerchief to wipe the boy’s face.

Dick watched with worry as Damian’s face creased with confusion as he recounted his story.

“I woke up to get a glass of water…I was in the kitchen when I heard this sound, like a whinging or wailing, and I followed it to one of the sitting rooms-the one with the large fireplace- and I thought it must have been an animal caught in the chimney…but it wasn’t…it wasn’t, Grayson!”

Here his eyes went wide with recalled fear and Dick finally took notice of a ragged teddy bear in his hands that caused alarm bells to go off in his head. Damian did not have any stuffed animals, he believed them to be childish and unsuitable for decoration, but Dick decided to focus on the task at hand and so he prompted the younger boy to continue.

“What was it, Damian?”

Gentle and soft what was what the boy needed and so that’s what he gave. Damian uncharacteristically snuggled closer, something he wouldn’t usually do if they had an audience, and whimpered.

“It had a face but it wasn’t human…it put me in the walls…it was a game…a trick” The boy trailed off eyes distant.

Dick stood up keeping a firm grasp on the Damian, and the boy automatically wrapped his arms around his neck, “Let’s get you some food, huh? We’ll figure the rest out later, yeah?”

He tried to be upbeat but his brother’s behaviour was worrying and the toy clutched in his hand was troubling. Dick met eyes with Bruce and inclined his head, “Maybe we should all head to the kitchen, I’m sure our guest would enjoy some of Alfie’s fine sandwiches.”

There was general agreement. Once they were all seated the priest introduced himself.

“Ah, yes! I’m Father Hennessy, a friend of Chas and Constantine. Chas’ situation is going to take a little bit longer then expected and Mr. Wayne here tracked me down to help with the uh situation.”

The man turned to Damian, who still refused to leaved Dick’s arms and he wasn’t complaining, and gently continued, “Now, your father’s explained most of your situation and after your done eating I would like to just do a quick examination.”

Damian did’t answer, even when Dick gave him a little jostle, surprised that a stranger’s presence didn’t make the boy feel the need to speak up or abandon the comfort he was seeking in his older brother.

“That should be good.” He answered for the boy.

Alfred cut in with a sniff, “He’ll be needing a bath and new bandages as well.”

Dick laughed softly, “Yeah that too.”

They enjoyed a small lunch, though he was worried by how little Damian ate and shocked when the boy was so clingy and refused to eat unless Dick was feeding him, arms stubbornly locked around his neck. The reliance and meekness was so unusual that Dick cut their lunch short, citing a bath was in order and he would deal with the bandages and he would let them know when they would be ready for Father Hennessy.

…

Damian hated how weak he was acting, his mother would disapprove and although he hadn’t been able to look his father in the face yet he imagined it would be filled with similar sentiments. He only lifted his head from Grayson’s shoulder when the older man sat him on the bathroom counter. He older was gentle taking off the robe and his other clothes, leaving him in his underwear, and left the teddy bear in his hand undisturbed.

His older brother, like always, seemed to understand and didn’t feel the need to ask, although Damian could see his curiosity in the way his eyes lingered.

“Now I’ll run the water and let you slip in while I run and get you some new clothes.”

Damian looked up, “You’ll be back?”

“In a jiffy lil’D. Don’t worry.”

He nodded and waited for his brother to leave the bathroom, but insisted the door be left open, before scurrying to the tub. He laid the stuffed animal beside the bathroom, quickly stripped and jumped into the warm water. Damian didn’t waste time, efficiently pouring soap into his hands, by which time Grayson had already returned. The older man smiled, laying the clothes and first aid kit to the side and sitting by the tub.

“I thought I’d read a few stories for you while you washed up. Unless you’d prefer I waited outside?”

Grayson as always was gentle and kind, leaving him with options, even if he already suspected what one wanted. Damian just laid his head on the edge and waited expectantly.

Grayson didn’t just read stories, he breathed life into them, gave it life and character, voice changing with each character and tone changing depending on the gravity meant to be conveyed. It lulled Damian into a peaceful half sleep and Grayson looked marginally less stressed. After a few more chapters the older man insisted he get out and he grumble and complained but allowed the fluffy towel to be wrapped around him and suffered through the attentive dressing for his wounds and when completed Damian was left to get dressed while Grayson went to fetch the priest.

He got dressed quickly and sat on Grayson’s bed, smiling lightly when Alfred left into his lap and Titus laid at his feet. Damian content for the moment pet the cat’s fur.

It started with an awareness of something other, his muscles tensing and he could feel breath on the back of his neck. Fear kept him from turning around but Titus wasn’t held back from any such emotion. The great dane jolted up growling and snapping his teeth.

Damian wasn’t forced to turn around but rather the demon walked around the edge of the bed and stood in front of him, though the image it wore was deteriorated, clothes singed and torn, skin washed out and dead looking.

“Damian…have you reconsidered? It whispered crouching down so its glowing eyes could meet his.

“No, I haven’t.”

It purred, “I think you will!”

And like a snake it’s hand darted out to grab the snarling dog by the neck. Damian jumped up horrified as it lifted Titus up, who had begun whining and jerking at the treatment. The cat hissed and he could feel the claws digging into his shoulder.

“Stop..stop-please!”

It chuckled, “You know what you have to do!”

Its voice was a cheerful and Damian felt nauseous, but as he watched the way Titus whined, scared and helpless, and the trust in his eyes he could only sob a bitter ‘yes’.

The demon dropped the dog and Titus scurried away and as it came close enough to wrap its hands around his neck Damian knew no more.

….

Dick led everybody upstairs, after having a serious talk with Bruce of course, the older man had not said he was disappointed to have been informed that Damian was missing or to find Dick putting a hole in the wall like a maniac, but it was implied. In the end he had simply thanked Dick for doing his best. Tim and Jason had been arguing about why they hadn’t been able to hear Damian, Jason inciting that Dick had some weird ‘older-brother instinct’ that led him to the boy and Tim saying he was an idiot.

Now he was just anxious to get back to his room, not wanting to leave Damian alone for so long again. As they rounded the bend his brow furrowed at the sight of Titus and Alfred fleeing from the room but dismissed it as they entered, Damian exactly where he left him, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Hey, buddy! Sorry to take so long, how you feeling.”

Damian shrugged and Dick sat next to him and gestured the priest forward.

He watched carefully as Father Hennessy pulled out his desk chair to face his younger brother.

“Now, I will say a simple prayer and anoint you with some Holy Water before asking you some questions, hmm?”

Again the boy did not answer.

“In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit-“ Father Hennessy began.

“Sow.” Damian interrupted quietly and Dick frowned at him surprise. Damian had never expressed any interest for any religion but also never any disdain and such rudeness was unexpected.

“Our Father who art in Heaven-“

“-or Hell-” Again the boy cut in.

Dick flinched and a shocked “Dami” slipped past his lips.

He just smiled.

But now the priest stopped and reached into his pocket pulling out a small vial of water.

“Put that away you fucking pig!” Damian’s voice had gained a deep growling layered quality that caused Dick to grab the boy’s arm, dread tightening his throat.

A hoarse barley audible ‘Damian’, but the result was what it always was going to be. Damian looked up with a wide grin splitting his face, showing all his teeth, and dead eyes.

“Oh he isn’t here now Dickie boy.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, school assignments and all that :(, hope you enjoyed it. BTW this is pretty long and a lot happened and if anyone thinks it was too long with way too much happening let me know and I'll try my best not to it again :)


	5. Possession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanna thank everyone who waited so patiently for the update and are even bothering to read this still. I'm sorry it took so long, life ya know?
> 
> I hope you all enjoy and I'm going to try to be more consistent with my updates

* * *

 

pos·ses·sion

 

pəˈzeSHən

 

_noun_

 

1\.      The state of having, owning, or controlling something.

 

 

2\.   The state of being controlled by a demon or spirit.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It was hideous and an abomination, cackling madly and wearing his brother’s face. Dick was sickened. The grip he had on Damian had been necessary because after revealing itself the demon had flung Damian’s body at the priest, snapping his teeth and fingers hooked like claws. Dick had been forced to restrain him, the boy thrashing violently swearing in a multitude in languages, some unfamiliar to him. 

Father Hennessy had begun to pray, voice steady as he flicked the holy water on Damian, who reacted as if burned, hissing and screaming, before all his muscles seemed to tense and lock. Dick had looked down to find the boy looking up at him, head titled back so his throat was exposed and the green of eyes swallowed by how much his pupils were blown. His mouth opened but what emerged was the sound of a braying horse, and Dick flinched at the unexpected sound, terrified.

 

“-In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost. Amen” The priest seemed to finish a prayer but before he could could continue Damian seemed to deflate, limbs going slack and head falling forward.

 

There was a moment of silence where nobody in the room moved, Father Hennessy finally broke the heavy atmosphere.

 

“Would there happen to be a room where we could fit some restraints to the bed? When he awakens we will need to be ready and demons have strength beyond what their vessels would suggest.”

 

Alfred seemed to come to himself first, his voice had a quaver that was being heard more often recently, “I will see to that straight away. There is an unused room down the hall I think will serve our purposes”

 

Dick hooked an arm under Damian’s legs and brought the boy to the bed to lay him down. Kneeling beside the boy he clasped the little hand in his own.

 

“This is my fault. I shouldn’t have left him-oh god-he was so scared and I just _left_ him!” Dick sobbed head hanging as his shoulders hitched, “Just for a minute-a _minute_!”

 

“Nobody is blaming you, Dick. None of us is exactly cable of anything remotely close to stopping this thing.” Tim was at his side in an instant, crouching next to him. His eyes were wet and he was worrying his bottom lip with his teeth, a bad habit when he was nervous that led to constantly chapped lips, “He’s strong- _so so strong_ \- and he’s going to need you to be strong for him. I mean...nobody understands him better than you.”

 

Dick nodded, looking back at Damian and gently moving the hair that had fallen into his face back. “Yeah, you’re right, kiddo. Sorry I’m such a mess-heh.”

 

“So, I guess it would be too hard for you to share the fact that your were just getting a priest, huh, Bruce?”

 

That was Jason, looking at the older man skeptically. Tim stood up watching his brother wearily, “Now isn't really the time to start a fight, Jay.”

 

“I didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up if I wasn’t able to locate and convince Father Hennessy. Kramer’s call about the delay was a disappointment that I did not wish to lower the moral of the family any further.”

 

Bruce’s voice, as usual, was even with every word carefully chosen and conveyed but when Dick looked at him he could see the hurt in his eyes and the tense muscle in his jaw as he looked at his son, weak and frail, on the bed.

 

Dick turned to younger man and gently said, “Jaybird...”

 

The man’s shoulder’s immediately fell, the anger and fight leaving him in a rush of movement, he dragged his hands down his face, “I-I can’t...kid shouldn’t have to deal with this, it ain’t right...”

 

“We know, come over here.” Dick beckoned him over and they all sat by their little brother’s side, waiting for the sun to set, the wanning light throwing shadows across the room.

 

....

 

Damian groaned and moved his hand to press his hand to his head, a headache was building behind his eyes, but his hand jerked to an abrupt stop. His eyes flew open and he looked down to find his limbs all attached to the posts of a bed he didn’t recognize. The straps around his wrists and ankles were leather but had a soft lining that Damian figured would reduce irritation, but the sight made him sick because he knew what was happening now. Damian had lost the battle, he had been _weak_ , however the thought of Titus’ cries resolved his belief that his decision was one that he would never truly regret.

 

As he observed his situation with tired eyes he found all his brothers camped out in the space covering the room’s floor while his father and Alfred restedon the chairs fashionably decorating one corner of the room, slept stiffly on the uncomfortable furniture. Damian immediately felt bad. They all looked exhausted, dark bags under their eyes and clothes rumbled. To his right a man- _a priest_ \- he didn’t recognize for a moment before it came to him, sat praying quietly, voice a comforting thrum of noise, a rosary in his hands, the beads clinking lightly against each other. The sight made the pain in his head intensify to unbearable levels and Damian was forced to look away with a groan.

 

Almost immediately Dick was at his side, hair mussed and Jason groaning from how the man had scrambled over him.

 

“Hey, lil’D?” It was a question.

 

“I’m sorry...did I fall asleep before the priest could examine me?”

 

Dick looked so sad in that moment that Damian felt it like a physical ache, an immediate response to any negative feeling his brother was experiencing, like they shared the same nerves. He wanted to comfort the older man but was restricted, unable to reach him. His head hurt.

 

“You’ve been...asleep...for 3 days now.” Dick said slowly watching Damian closely.

 

Damian knew that wasn’t _completely_ true. He hadn’t been asleep, he had been gone while that thing used his body. He felt nauseous and the stupid fucking headache. Tears prickled the corner of his eyes and he couldn’t breathe, the words caught in his throat.

 

“I’m sorry...”

Dick instantly made soothing sounds, brushing his hair back, “You don’t have anything to be sorry for Dami, just focus on getting better.”

 

He nodded, though he didn’t agree, the urge to explain himself, to justify his weakness prompted Damian to say more then he would normally feel comfortable with. “It was going to hurt-hurt-”

 

It was surreal for the boy, he could feel his mouth moving, see the reactions of those around him but had no control. His voice took on the deep gravely timbre of a old man, “SHUT YOUR WHORISH MOUTH!”

 

Damian could feel his face twist, mouth pulled back in an angry snarl while his eyes narrowed, while an onslaught of profanity was screamed, shocking the rest of his family awake. The priest had begun praying with more strength , steel entering his voice and back straitening as he faced the menace, which Damian shockingly realized was him.

 

He was reminded horrifyingly of the incident after he was paralyzed and his mother had not only replaced his spine but had added a little something extra, something to make him more amendable. It was the same feeling, being a passenger of his own body, watching it do things he would never and being helpless to stop it. Damian had promise himself never again and was disappointed and distraught to realize he couldn’t protect himself from monsters who sought to make him a puppet, then or now. 

 

Damian felt his body arch, painful bending his back off the bed and straining his arms and legs in their restraints. A language even he couldn’t recognize came from his mouth, wailing like he was being murdered. The room seemed to shake but Damian hoped that it was just him, but the sound of shattering glass suggested otherwise.

 

“I command you in the name of our Lord-!”

 

The priest was shouting and Damian needed him to stop. Just as suddenly as it started it stopped, his body falling limply to the bed. His face felt strangely black and he turned to face the bald old man, sweating, cheeks red as he recited the prayer so passionately. He could feel his body jerking as he began to chuckle, the sound menacing and disturbed.

 

“Now now, Hennessy! You look like you could use a drink,” The voice mocked, “Is it all those pesky dead people, still begging you for help? Poor boy, all his father could drum up, a washed up alcoholic who can barley string together a coherent prayer on a good day. Do you even still believe in God, hmm?

 

His neck cracked as the demon turned to face his father, now standing at the end of the bed, fingers reaching out to touch Damian’s ankle, just falling short. He could feel his mouth twist in a sneer, “Oh no need to be so worried Papa, I’m taking very _good_ care of your boy.”

 

It laughed, voice layered with different baritones as Bruce frowned and his fist clenched.

 

“Poor boy, couldn’t _wait_ to say yes to me. Practically _begging_ for me to get inside of him.” It wheezed, “Sweet boy, my little prince…he knew no one would love him like I do.”

 

It licked his lips lascivious while moving his hips vulgarly, laughing loudly when his father grabbed the front of his shirt.

 

“Stop…” Bruce gritted out.

 

“Don’t listen to it…all demons do is lie.” Father Hennessy interrupted tiredly before turning to Damian, “Reveal your true name in the name of the Holy Father.”

 

It made a rude noise but relaxed on the bed, laying docilely and watching the room lazily.

 

The eyes took an unnatural sheen and Damian’s voice could be heard again, although the words were anything but his, “Why am I tied up? It hurts...let me go! Please, Father, please!”

 

It began to cry, sniffing pathetically, “Please help me... _Please_...”

 

“We are helping, Dami! We are...I’m sorry it hurts you just gotta get through it.” Dick was there instantly, pushing his sweaty hair back and gently sipping the tears on his cheeks. Damian wanted to scream. It wasn’t him but his soft tender brother was so quick to offer his comfort and love. It made what happened next hurt even more.

 

“Oh my sweet little Robin!”, It was a female voice, unfamiliar to him but instantly recognized by Grayson.

 

Dick flinched away and look little terrified as he whispered, “Mo-mom?”

 

“Robin,” The voice cooed gently, “I’m here darling! Now why don’t you help me out of these ropes, honey? They hurt so much.”

 

“It lies!” The priest hissed, eyes narrowed as he returned to prayer.

 

“It can’t be,” Grayson looked sick and stumbled backwards as he moved away from the bed. Drake and Todd were at his side instantly. It was funny that despite whatever feuds or fights the brothers could be having they were always instantly ready to defend and help each other.

 

“It is, sweetie,” The demon possessing Damian chirped, “And you let this boy die, just like you let me and your father die. Aren’t you tired of being such a failure? Why do people always have to die for you?”

It questioned relentlessly with a cruel glint in its eyes. And Damian screamed internally, angry at the loss of control over his body and that any part of him could be used to hurt Grayson. The demon didn’t like that and his body began to thrash and bend on the bed as he fought its control.

 

“Reveal yourself demon” The priest intoned solemnly, sprinkling holy water liberally.

 

The demon screamed as his skin burned, hissing with smoke and skin red. “You’re killing me! You're killing me, you bastards!”

 

“The Holy Spirit commands you! Reveal yourself and vacate the body of God’s servant!”

 

Damian’s head whipped side to side before he threw his head back screeching,“I have many names, none that you can command from me you pathetic ingrate! The bastard is mine! Mine!”

 

....

 

Dick couldn’t sleep. Alfred had suggested they take a break and Father Hennessy had agreed. They usually had rotating shifts but the previous night they had all decided to rest in Damian’s room. Now, in the kitchen they all sat exhausted. Alfred had made some coffee and sandwiches but the sound of the thing possessing Damian could still be heard. It made noises that were inhuman and layered and Dick knew that they would haunt him until the day he died.

 

After the demon began speaking in his mother’s voice and screeching Dick had been forced to leave the room. Surprisingly, it had been Jason that had used the strong grip he had on his arm to lead him out the room. Dick had been shaking so badly and felt so nauseous that he hadn’t even been able to walk straight. Jason was also there when he found himself bent over the toilet, vomiting everything in his stomach, visions of his parents’ and Damian’s broken and bloodied bodies forcing their way to the forefront of Dick’s mind.

 

He wanted to be anywhere but there, as far away from the manor and that evil as possible and yet the thought of leaving Damian, his _boy_ , hurt Dick more then anything that the demon could throw at him.

 

It had only been a few days but Damian’s body had already lost so much weight. His lips and skin so dry it had begun to crack and ooze blood and his hair dull with the lack of nutrients he was receiving. Dick and Alfred were responsible for wiping him down and cleaning him up. He knew Damian would not be able to stand Jason or Tim, and especially not his Father cleaning him and the bed up. They would setup the IVs and other necessary medical equipment, when the demon wasn’t squirming and breaking the needles. Often they would have to drug him with tranquilizers before they could get anything done and this scared Dick more then anything because they kept having to use larger doses more frequently and it wasn’t healthy.

 

He sipped quietly at his coffee, it was stronger then usually, just black with none of the the milk and sugar that he would usually poor in that would make Damian cringe with a disgusted face. The memory made Dick smile now, Damian with his herbal teas, lemon and honey,was disgusted by their drinking habits and would express it with the utmost disdain. Although whatever problems he had with Dick’s morning coffee could not compare to his refusal to accept the sludge Tim drank and actively avoids being in the kitchen when he figured out how the older boy took his coffee.

 

Dick put his mug in the sink and turned to face the priest, “I don’t understand...that was my mother’s voice.”

 

“Tricks...It is what the demons do. You understand nothing it says in the truth and that was not your mother,” Hennessy said as he fixed his collar. He looked exhausted.

 

Dick nodded but his mind was elsewhere, the words spat with hatred in his mother’s voice and the image of the vulnerable and sick body ofDamian’s body occupied his mind, a deep feeling of unease and hopelessness rising alongside his exhaustion. His body felt heavy and without another word he left the kitchen to get a bet of sleep before the fresh hell that tomorrow would bring

 

......

 

Damian stood in a room familiar to him but he knew he could not possible be in. It was his old room in the League of Assassins headquarters in Nanda Parbat. The snowcapped mountains that surrounded the fortress could be seen from the window and the soft glow of the candles and lamps filled the room, casting ominous shadows. Damian spun on his heel towards the door, he could hear something breathing on the other side of the wood, He walked closer, cautious, and kneeled down to press his ear to the door. The oak was solid, old, and did not offer much and Damian would admit that his own breathing, rapid and fearful, beyond any of his control, prevented the possibility of any proper investigation.

 

He stepped back nervous, something was telling him not to leave the room and the thought of turning the handle to continue his investigation sent a jolt of fear and dread through Damian so powerful that he bent forward in pain with the full weight of it. Decided, Damian turned away from the door and towards the childhood room he had never expected to see again. He could touch the wood of his nightstand, feel the etchings and grooves that made up the design of his bed frame but Damian could say with certainty none of it was real.

 

Damian took another moment to leaf though some papers, old manuscripts and readings pertinent to his training and education, before sitting on his bed. He had never been prone to lucid dreaming until after being resurrected from the dead, dreams often beginning in plausible situations that devolved into nightmares inspired by his time in Hell. Damian bit his lip, worrying the skin, the possibility of it being just another nightmare unlikely since his possession.

 

And the ominous presence on the other side of the door only seemed to grow as he sat there contemplating his situation. Damian shifted uneasy, moving further onto the bed and tucking his feet under his legs. Not only had the presence increased but also the sound, the ragged breathing, snarls and laughter, and the faint whispers of claws skimming the textured surface of the door.

 

Damian knew suddenly, with a clarity and certainty that surprised him, that it was the demon and the only thing preventing it from gaining full possession of him was a flimsy door conjured from his subconscious mind.

 

Almost as if the demon understood his newly gainedawareness it roared and the door began to shake on the hinges as something repeatedly struck it with enough force to shake dust from the ceiling. Damian was forced to cover his ears as the roar transitioned into an unending screech that rang in his ears like painful spikes being run into his head. Damian simply watched, frozen and hoping the door would hold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BTW to the last 3 comments for chapter four thank you so much, honestly those helped me finish this chapter and get through my slump :)


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